All American Wizard
by gryffindork1103
Summary: Isis has been home schooled her whole life, and she's been DYING to go to Hogwarts for forever. And now that she's in her 5th year and her overprotective OOTP member parents are letting her go, Dumbledore decides to relocate them to recruit for the Order in other countries. And now she's stuck with those bloody Americans. My take on American wizard schools. All OCs, R&R guys (:
1. The crap news that ruined my morning

**Authors Note:** Why hello there lovely readers! This is not the first story that I've posted on fanfiction, but it is the first story I've uploaded since I fell deeply and madly in love with Harry Potter. For full story (but honestly, who cares?) see my profile. I've spent almost a year with this story, not even writing it, but developing the characters and story line, and I'm honestly in love with it. I hope you guys are too :D And now, On with the show!

**Disclaimer:** I sadly own nothing of the Harry Potter series. Yet, I do own Isis Marie Montgomery and all of her ridiculousness, and my wonderful American Wizards(:

I was somewhere that was gloriously warm. It was so warm that the sunshine melted on my body and covered me in all of its love. I smiled as I surrounded myself with the gentle serenity of slightly rocking waves. I let out a sigh as I felt the cool sand squish in between my toes. But all too soon my sleep and my dream suntan had been ruined.

Some strange noise was coming from my pillow. What surprised me was that it sounded French. "Réveille-toi, chérie." Translation: "Wake up, sweetie". The voice sounded so gentle and loving, that for a moment I actually considered it. But, my bed was far too warm and lovely, that I cocooned myself in my blankets and I succumbed myself to sleep once more. I just got back to the beach when all of a sudden, there it was again. "Allons, réveillez-vous!" Translation: "Come on. Wake up!" Not really forcing me to get up, just pleasantly asking, pleading for me to get out of my bed. Nevertheless, it was keeping me from the calm ocean. _Hush pillow _I told it_. This is sleep time._ I tried to return to my beachy haven when the speaking turned deadly. "Isis, ne me faites pas obtenir le seau." Translation: "Isis, don't make me get the bucket." I rolled over and prayed for my pillow to stop speaking, but all of a sudden my blankets were ripped away from me, and my curtains were opened.

"Gahh!" I gasped as the sunlight streamed in and intruded into my closed eyelids. "Not fair!" I whined. It was far too bright and far too early. And then my mother shouted louder than she had before, (This time in English which meant she was really mad) "ISIS. UP. NOW!"

I sat for a moment, giving her my best death glare but I rolled over and placed my feet on the floor in defeat. "Good, now urry up," She ordered, "Your fazer and I need to speak to you." She ordered in her heavy accent. I simply groaned and said a very weak, "Yes, drill sergeant." With one more dirty look back at me, she was gone.

I staggered out of bed and looked in the mirror at my haggard appearance. My morning face reminded me a bit like my mother's when she was angry. I suppose that I was pretty on a normal occasion, getting most of my looks from her. And I also suppose that since I'm talking about myself that I should properly introduce myself: My name is Isis Montgomery, I'm 15 and I'm the daughter of a French aristocrat. And even though I don't care about appearance, I've decided it is time to shower, since I look like a street bum rather than an aristocrat.

I took one fleeting look In the mirror, and then slowly trudged into the bathroom, my slippers shuffling across the floor. I quickly moved through my morning routine: Shower, shave, dress, steal some of whatever mom is cooking, brush my teeth and dry my hair. As I was nibbling away at a piece of bacon I ran a brush through my long dark hair. Personally, I thought that my hair was too dark for my pale skin, but mother said I have a "complexion like crème fraiche. However, I LOVE my eyes- my wide round violet eyes. They kinda just light up my face, and Daddy says they look like gem stones. I'm obviously a complete Daddy's girl, but I love my mother. My Grandfather and Grandmere (as they say in French) were purebloods, so is my mother. You know, all that old money and stuff. She's not the typical pureblood though; she doesn't have that "pureblood mania" that everyone has. Only the glitzy glamorous life that comes with it. And can be sorta pretentious, too. Yet, she is completely oblivious to it.

My mother Appoline is originally from France, and my father William from Scotland. I was born in Paris, and lived there for a few years. Just as I was about to start school at Beaubaxtons, my father decided that France was too dangerous, what with the information my father had been hearing from work. So we took a trip out to my Grandparents out in Edinburgh and stayed there for a year or too, and I've just been homeschooled. We moved from city to city in Scotland, trying to stay hidden, according to my parents. So, my life is really a pain in the ass.

Did I mention that my family is a family of wizards?

Yeah, that would explain the "purebloods" I was talking about, the constant relocating, etc. Life is dangerous in the wizarding world. At least my parents are FINALLY letting me start at a real school. And I'm not going to any school, I'm going to Hogwarts! The greatest wizarding school in the entire freaking planet! It's where (gasp) Harry Potter goes! Dad's not looking forward to me going, but it's where he went so it was deemed "safe enough for his little lass". I think that he just didn't want be to go to Beaubaxtons like mother did. And maybe the fact that Dumbledore is headmaster of Hogwarts had something to do with it. NAHH, I think it's just the Beaubaxtons thing.

I finally deemed myself not hideous, so I trudged down the stairs to see what the "wardens" wanted from me. I made my way to the kitchen of our little cottage and found my mother whisking away at something and my father reading _The Daily Prophet. "_Morning Daddy" I said as chipper as I could this early in the morning, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He was too absorbed in some article to respond by anything but a nod. I grabbed a seat and quickly plopped myself down in it as I eagerly awaited my mother's cooking. "La mere," I asked, "Qui est pour le petit dejuener?" I asked her. I was STARVING. Probably because I was just a bottomless pit, though. She smiled and said "Crepes zis morning for breakfast, ma cherie."

That meant bad news. My most favorite breakfast of all time, she was trying to sweeten me up. Why does she pick TODAY to tell me bad news? She already ruined my morning. I guess she sensed that I was on to her, so she asked me some stupid question about what filling I wanted in my crepe. So I turned to my Dad to see if I could get an answer out of him, but he was still reading, occasionally making a _tsk _noise when he read something that he didn't like. I waited for him to finish and then I could bombard him with questions, but he put down the paper and remained silent. Argh.

Mother set the hot crepe in front of me, warm nutella and strawberries oozing out of it, hot goey and deliciously sweet. Just as I was about to stab t with my fork and relish in all of its goodness, mother decided to tell me what she and daddy were up to. She picked up the paper, which she NEVER does. "Oh my goodnees, look at all zeese people zat 'ave gone missing. Zere are disappearances everywhere." I watched in awe as my mother read _The Daily Prophet_. My father then nodded in agreement. "Aye, I read that too. It's not safe anywhere anymore."

I was, intrigued, to say the least. They knew I read the Prophet every day, and every day it was always the same thing. Mysterious disappearances that the Ministry covers up, things like that. They know that I stay in touch with what's going on, (or what the Ministry SAYS is going on), they don't ever feel the need to school me on it. I know what's at stake here, I'm reminded everyday by their sheer absence. My parents work for the Order of The Phoenix, a secret society formed by Dumbledore for the purpose of fighting against Lord Voldemort. Pretty scary stuff, right? Apparently, they ran into some trouble a while back with the Lestranges, and thus the life of home schooling for Isis was born.

Anyways, back to my parents. They were now looking from the paper to one another, to me, then back again. It was like they were trying to see my reaction, whether or not they should continue speaking, and who would be the one to bear whatever bad news they had to me. It was my mother who continued. "Voldemort is starting to spread across ze globe, trying to gather as many followers as he can. And according to Dumbly-dorr, zere is a great amount of people in ze U.S zat don't really pay attention to all ze politics in Europe." I was going to ask what the hell this had to do with anything, but my dad continued right where my mom left off. "Aye, that's true lass. And since thay don't know much about what it is that's happening here, he believes that the Death Eaters will try to gather followers from there. The Order has very little members there, so Dumbledore was trying to see if anyone would like to volunteer to check out the Western Hemisphere," he finished with a small sad smile.

Woah, SERIOUSLY? He was leaving his family to leave for bloody America for months, without any answer as to how long he'll be there. And he was leaving me here with my pretentious, overbearing mother?

Or so I thought.

Ma mere then told me how at the moment it was safer in the U.S. "You see darling, zere are just recruits zere at ze moment, so zere is no fighting. Plus it is far away from ze Potter boy. So tze two of us decided zat it would be best for us all to move to America for a small while. What do you think?"

My mouth opened in shock, and I think my jaw just reached the floor, something that has never happened before.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, looking back and forth between my parents. Staring into my fathers eyes, silently begging for it to not be true. I got a sad nod from him. I looked back to my mom. She was smiling wide, completely oblivious to my dread of our plans to move to America.

"I- I need a minute" I was able to stammer out. I hastily turned from the kitchen, into my room and slammed the door shut.

_My room_, I thought. I've had so many over the years, what with us moving all the time. Each of them was different, and I liked them in their own special way. But my room here, was definitely my favorite. It was small, but I didn't need much space. My bed was on right side of the room from where you walked in. It was sort of in the wall, I guess like an alcove. At one end of it, there are shelves where I store books, journals, stationary and some makeup (my miniscule amount, bought at the whim of my mother). On the left, I had my dresser that was always covered in books. My cozy reading chair was placed in the middle of the room, and not far from it was a small table that held an old style rotary-dial phone( even though we're wizards and don't need one, I thought it would look cool in my room!) and a small journal where I record my thoughts about books. At the opposite end from where you walked in would be the doors to my adjoined bathroom and my closet. The walls are a pale, cream color, and most of my furniture is a pretty white. The sun shines onto my room all day, happily dancing off the walls. The heather outside my window waves in the wind.

I didn't want to move. I love this home, and I love Scotland. Mother can't stand it here. She HATES the countryside. I mean, I guess that's kind of expected of someone who was born and raised in Paris. And Paris is amazing, it's true. It's probably the only city I like in the entire world. But with me, there's just something about Scotland. It's rugged, but not rough, old but fascinating, and with a gentle sweet side you couldn't imagine existed. It's so calm and serene. I don't know, I guess I got this from my father, the love of the quieter rural areas.

I know that if we move to America, it'll be to a city, like New York or something. I am going to die. I might have said that I love Paris, but New York is NO Paris. It's dirty, and crime ridden, and smelly. The people are rude, constantly moving, moving, moving. They don't stop to have a conversation, or admire the world around them. It drives me crazy. And then of course, it's all split up into different areas. There's poverty land, then there's uptown fancy shmancy socialite land. I can feel it already, mother is going to love it. Of course, she won't leave uptown I bet, so she won't see any part of the REAL world. I swear, she was raised by wealthy purebloods, and since she didn't acquire pureblood mania, I think she was hit with a double dose of snobbery, or at least an obsession with the finer, more expensive, pretentious things in life. If she was a muggle, I think she'd wind up as a… I believe the word is debutant? She tries to get me like that, made me take things like etiquette lessons as a child. It's completely unnecessary, and it drives me mad that she lives her life based off of that rubbish. The only thing I like about the fine life is the food. Seriously.

Oh, Smehkaleen. Why couldn't they just have killed me? And I know mother, she won't let me just go to Hogwarts while she and dad in another country. So that means

More Homeschooling. OR

Go to one of the American schools.

I've been homeschooled my whole life, and I swear, even though BOTH of my parents are aurors AND members of the Order of the Phoenix, they haven't taught me anything. They're too busy. And going to American school? HA! I would rather insult a Hippogriff.

It's just not… magical. At least not like Hogwarts is. It's not as old, or rugged. And America doesn't have all that random countryside land that Europe does to hide a school of that massive size. They're in smaller areas to conceal them better, obviously no ancient castle filled with history. I don't even want to imagine what it would be like to go American Wizarding School.

"ARGHH!" I grunted as I tossed my journal on my bed and then proceeded to pace around my room. I walked over to my owl Calypso's cage, and she nipped at my finger. "How could she do this to me, Callie?" I was royally pissed off.

Hogwarts was my dream for as long as I could remember, even when I was still living in France. Ever since my Dad was telling me about how majestic and magical and amazing it was. I finally had been able to settle on Beaubaxtons, and then the plug was pulled on that too. I homeschooled MYSELF, while my parents were away and busy. Now, for the first time ever I could get the chance to go to school, I'm going to wind up in an AMERICAN school? The injustice that has been committed is outrageous.

_My journal, the only one who understands how I feel. _I stroked Callie once more, gave her a treat, then I hopped onto my bed to retrieve my leather-bound journal, up on the shelf right above where my feet lie at night. I grabbed my favorite quill, and a pot of ink, and snuggled into the massive pile of pillows. I opened the journal, and before I began to do anything, I inhaled the scent of it. _Mhmmm, _as I breathed it in deeply. I remembered Daddy once telling me "Don't judge a book by the look of its cover, judge it by the smell of its spine." Silly, I know. But to this day I still have to check how a book smells when I buy it. When I go into a book store, even if I know which book I'm going to buy, I have to carefully select WHICH book it is. It can take hours, sometimes.

I decided that rather than just start venting about the whole "Move to America" issue, I would create a Pro and Con list of it all. I wanted to start positive, but, me being me, all I could come up with were Cons.

Cons about moving to America:

1) It's America.

2) It's not Scotland.

3) Their wizarding schools don't compare to Hogwarts, where I'd be forced to go OR

4) Continue to be homeschooled.

5) No Dumbledore either.

6) We'd be living in like, Manhattan or something.

7) It wouldn't have my room. (Okay, I know it's a stupid reason, but still.)

8) Their cattle is fed with genetically engineered corn, therefore its steaks do not compare to European steaks. (A VITAL REASON.)

9) There are no Crunchy bars. (Again, TRES IMPORTANT!)

And yet, the only thing I had on the Pros list was:

1) It's a fresh start. (A line my mother told me each time we'd move.)

2) At least I'd socialize with people my own age, at the inadequate school.

I know I was being childish about the whole thing, but you don't understand how tragically awful it would be for us to have to move! I could feel the venting coming on about my parents, I was just about to dip my quill into the ink and start to write, but there was a sudden rapping on my door, and as I jumped at the noise the inkpot tipped onto my bed. Smehkaleen. Before I could reply to who was outside my door, my father entered the room.

I gave him my best evil glare and said filled with fake malice "You tipped the inkpot." I grabbed for my wand, pretending I was about to duel him, which amused him greatly.

I looked at the mess on my bed, broken glass in a puddle of black ink. A quick flick with a "Reparo!" and the ink pot put itself together again.

"Impressive, but can you get the ink off of your bed before your mother screams?" daddy said, quite smugly.

I snorted, waved my wand and confidently said "Tergeo!" and looked at my father, who watched in awe that I knew that spell. There was still a small stain on the sheets, (stupid black ink on light blue) so a quick flourish of the wand and a muttering of "Evanesco!" did the trick. I was quite pleased with myself, and showed it, standing next to my bed looking rather proud.

He was defeated. "Alright lass, you win. Now, how do you feel about this move, huh? Come on, you can tell your old man," he winced, as his knees popped in an attempt to sit on the arm of my reading chair.

"Yeah, and don't ever forget your old." I snorted. "Seriously though?" I asked. He nodded.

"God dad, I-I just don't know. I love it here, in Scotland. I wouldn't even mind it so much if we were moving back to Paris, but America, Dad? Really? And you know how much Hogwarts means to me as well! AHH Smehkaleen!"

He chortled. "Smehkaleen. What the bloody hell does that even mean, anyways?"

I gave him a steely death glare. "Focus, please Dad? On the matter at hand? Not my teenage vernacular."

"Alright, Alright, settle down lass." He said. "You do realize what good it would do, you know. For us to move. AND for you to go to a school there. Rally up the other kids; get them to see the light, to form an opinion. We really need this; we need all the help we can get at this point." He frowned. "To be honest with you Lass, it looks like were losing, and we're completely outnumbered. If we want ANY hope in winning this war, we need followers. The move is an order from Dumbledore, and most likely unavoidable, and I would prefer it if you went without kicking and screaming. YOU can continue homeschooling, but Dumbledore said it would be good for you to try school there, though in the end the choice is up to you." He smiled a bit at me. "You're a smart girl, Isis Marie. And I know you'll make the right decision."

With that, he got up from the chair and walked out from my room. And he left me standing in front of my bed, totally frazzled.

Smehkaleen, did I have some thinking to do.


	2. AN: crap news that will ruin your day

Authors Note:

GAHH DON'T KILL ME! Okay, so I have several valid excuses for not updating when I should have. First and foremost, I was just in my schools musical, and I got run down with practices, run-throughs, costume and set designing, learning the stupid songs and dances of "Oklahoma!" (My least favorite musical, even though it was SO much fun to put on!), tech week (or as we call them "Hell Week", where we stayed at school until after midnight, then went home to do homework, not-sleep and then return to school the next day at before 8 a.m) rehearsals, and on top of that trying to stay on top of school work. Unsuccessfully. I GOT A FREAKING 75 ON AN ALGEBRA TEST! Even though it's probably my worst subject, as well as my least favorite, I expect nothing less than a 90 in that class, on any test! And then I got sick, trying to keep up with everything.

It was actually pretty funny, because we have the smallest theatre out of all schools in New York, we have NO backstage, we have to make our own. Like, we used curtains to make little wings, and they were so small, and there were so many of us back there stripping between acts, it was actually quite a sight to behold. LOL I'M NOT A PERV, DON'T WORRY! But we didn't just share our awkward teen bodies with one another, we mostly shared germs, coughing back and forth giving each other our illnesses.

So I finally started to get better, I went back to school, and someone got me sick again, worse than I was before. And once everything was said and done, when the show was finally over, no one had any voice left! It was pretty funny; no one could talk for like 2 weeks.

And all the while, I was trying to finish chapter 2. I would find some random time to type up what I was writing on scraps of paper between scenes, and now, as I make my move to update the second chapter, it's gone. POOF! Disappeared from my laptop, never to be seen again. A whole 7 pages in size eleven font. Single spaced. Tragic.

So, here's the deal, my lovelies. Tomorrow is my last day before I go on vacation for spring break. If there is no update by the 16th, you have full permission to stone me to death. (Well, maybe not stone me, that's a little extreme. But you can throttle me, and then rid the story from your favorites list.) I PROMISE IT WILL BE THERE BY THE 16TH! I shall get to work right now re-writing it! Away I go!


	3. Taking a Chance

**AN:** Yeah, I know that I went on hiatus without telling anyone. Are you going to sue me? Please don't. Besides, if you did, there would never be another update to the story! And I am sorry that I haven't updated, but this is literally an "I'm not dead" update. And after this update, I'm going to go start an AP World essay due Tuesday, another one due the following Tuesday, and Journal responses due on the 29th. And then, I may die due to an overdose of schoolwork on a weekend. So, enjoy the chapter! And sorry for its shortness. AND DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT FOR MY ISIS AND AMERICAN WIZARDS

**Chapter 2:** Taking a Chance

The next week, I found myself alone in the house, surrounded by boxes and bubble wrap. Normally I would just whip out my wand to do the packing, it's much faster. But seeing I have nothing else to do, why not act like a muggle? At least it passes the time, and gives me something to do besides worry, like I always do when Mother and Daddy are away.

I packed away the last of the living room and moved up the house, to my room. My cozy room that I'm leaving behind for a stupid dorm in an unknown American school. Where I will most likely be unliked. Because I'm from Europe. It's a lot to understand, the aversion that I have to America. But there's a lot of bitter history in the Wizarding World between the two countries. Too much for me to delve into now though, because I still have to pack my bedroom up.

I grabbed a few boxes and my school trunk, (no point in packing my things in boxes, then unpacking and packing my school things again in my trunk, might as well get the school stuff done now,) and began with my clothing. Once everything I was taking was all folded and in the trunk, I moved onto my books. There were so many books crammed into that tiny little bookshelf, all my favorite muggle stories, like Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre. I've spent days at a time up here reading, simply summoning food from the kitchen when I needed it. They were my escape from fear and worry, when all I could do was worry about my parents on missions. Those didn't go into boxes, but were carefully tucked away in my trunk. They would keep me company at school.

After the books went the journals (again in the school trunk), the makeup (that I wanted to throw out, since I never even wear it) my bed set, and all the other rubbish lying about my room.

I took a look at my room when everything was all packed away, with the walls bare and sad looking. The bed in the window didn't look nearly as cozy and inviting, the sunlight didn't dance off the pale yellow walls. The happiness was gone, and so was mine. I levitated the few boxes downstairs, along with my trunk and trudged into the kitchen for a snack, the only (even if it is temporary) cure for my sadness.

Most of the food was gone already, but there was still chocolate and the like in my junk food cabinet. I grabbed a chocolate frog, some Bertie Botts Beans, and even some of my muggle candy (Scottish and French), grabbed a sweater, my wand and trudged outside. I sat down in the grass and watched the heather blow in the wind. The sweet Scottish wind, that lovely air. I was going to miss it dearly. I ripped open the muggle candy first, and started to let the sweet caramel chocolate-y ness of the amazing French Carambar melt on my tongue. I laid back and continued to smell the fresh air, and all the heather.

I got an idea, smelling all that heather. I stood up brushed the grass off of me, and wandered over to the heather that danced below my window. I grabbed my wand out of my pocket, and then I ripped two bundles of heather. Holding them in one hand, I did a quick flourish with my wand in my other, and muttered _preservasio_, so that the heather would never lose its smell. One was going to go in the new house, in my new room. The other was coming with me to the school where I would be hated.

Okay, I know that I haven't really explained why I was dreading moving to America, and I'm sure you will find me to be ridiculous for not wanting to move, and that I have a really prejudiced reason behind it if I tell you. But, you might as well know the history behind it all. Here it goes:

Muggle Wars and Wizard Wars almost always occur around the same time, if you think about it. There muggle war in the 40's was when we had a war; there's a muggle was going on right now and the war that's going on for us. And most don't know this, but in the 1700's when the Americans fought their war for independence, there was a Wizarding War for independence as well.

Back during the period of pilgrims (I think that's what the muggles called them. The people from the first Thanksgiving?) Who went to America to avoid religious persecution, wizards decided it was time to expand ourselves. We hopped on the ships with the Puritans and moved to Massachusetts Bay, where we set up a new life.

However, the winters were cold and as more settlers came over on ships, food became sparse. Naturally, our people felt compelled to use magic. Now, this had been going on for a while, and continued to happen until the Salem Witch Burnings in 1692. Everyone was too afraid to use magic after that, now that people were on the hunt for magic. We were left to our own defenses again, no magic to aid in farming. People were dying from starvation and were being tried and killed for witchcraft. Life for the American Wizards had become terrible. They felt hunted by muggles for long enough, and as an act of revenge, the wizards wanted to slaughter all the muggles.

The Europeans however, forbid it. It would've hindered the colonization of wizards. The fight ensued from there, and the wizards (and revolutionary muggles) broke away from Europe, to do whatever they pleased. And then, after all that fighting was over, they decided that they wouldn't kill the muggles after all. God, they were so stupid. Why did they even fight for that right, if they wouldn't use it?

Unlike the muggles, the European and American wizards keep their distance. Maybe that's why there are so many problems in the muggle world today; no country knows how to mind their own business.

But, now with Voldemort controlling most of Europe, the Order isn't willing let his power move further west. This needs to end here -and soon- and that's where recruiting Americans would come in handy.

I glanced back at the house, and wondered what would happen to it now that we'd be leaving. I knew Daddy had every intention of keeping it, hoping that we'd be able to go back to it one day. I knew he was just as excited about the prospect of staying in New York permanently as I was. But I also knew if mummy wanted to stay, we would.

I sighed out of frustration, got up off the ground and picked up the wrappers from my "feast" of candy. I trudged back to our little cottage, and as I stepped through the back door, I tossed the candy wrappers on the counter, knowing it would drive Maman crazy. _Serves her right._

I took a look around the kitchen, the happy little kitchen in the back of our sunny little home. How many days had I come zombie-walking down the stairs in the morning, being led by the smells of Mother's amazing food that would waft up to my room? Then, I'd sit at the table, inhale my food, and Daddy looked at me like I was a monster. I'm sure with my bedhead and ravenous appetite I probably DID look like a troll. Then he'd laugh, and I'd threaten to send one of my vicious Bat-Bogey Hexes at him. Oh, he'd laugh, and Mother yelled at how "unlady-like" my eating was, and that I wouldn't DARE use that hex in HER kitchen, and how could I ever dare think of making a mess like that? I'd crack up, and run back up to my room, snuggle in bed and read or journal, or sometimes I'd practice magic. But more often than not I would just go back to sleep.

This of course only happened when my parents weren't away on missions, which sadly was often. It sucked being left alone for so long. I guess that it won't be so bad at school; at least I won't be alone. That is, if I make any friends.

_Ding! Ding! Ding! _I jumped as the clock in the hall chimed 3, pulling me out of my reverie. Mama and Papa were due back from the mission at seven tonight, and I still had a lot to do packing-wise. I had taken care of my room, the living room and the kitchen, but I still had to pack up the dining room and Papa's study. I was leaving them to pack up their room, I tried to avoid going into that bedroom. It was just awkward, knowing what could be going on in there. _Ughh._ I shuddered just from thinking about it. Grabbing some boxes, I decided to tackle the dining room, stuffed with fancy little vases and stuff that my mother had inherited from her parents. It all looked fancy and breakable. Deciding that my wand wasn't as reliable as my hands, I figured I should pack this stuff by hand.

I must have spent 2 hours in there, carefully wrapping everything in bubble wrap and placing it into a box filled with those foam peanut things. Once everything was off the shelves and packed up, I covered the furniture with a tarp so it wouldn't get all dusty during our time away. Then after I marked what was in each, I gently carried the boxes into the living room and placed them down with the others. After, I moved into the kitchen to pack up all of mothers cooking appliances. I decided that I should empty out my hidden stash of junk. If mother found out about it, I would be moving in with grandmere who would put me on a diet of leafy greens and force me to go to the debutant ball. I hid all the evidence in my school trunk.

Once that was all done, I looked at the time. It was 6:30, and I was relinquished of my packing duties, finally. Now, I had a half hour to nap before the source of my impending headache came home. I snuggled up on the love seat, and drifted away into dream land, where I went to Hogwarts and ate fattening French food and never ran out of books to read.

I was sitting in a book club meeting discussing Pride and Prejudice, surrounded by dancing cream puffs. They had just finished the Sugar Plum Fairy Dance from the Nutcracker; It was Julia Child's turn to speak about what she thought of the book, when all of a sudden somebody shook me awake.

"Isis, reveille-toi. Maintenant! It is time for diner." My mother looked down at me on the couch, and was poking and prodding me to wake. Opening one eye, I looked at the clock to see the time. 7:04. Curse my parents for ACTUALY coming home from a mission on time. I began whining and swatting her hands away.

"Leave me here. I want to sleep, not eat." Even with my eyes closed I could see my mother throwing her hands up in her exasperated state.

"Oh, honestly Isis! You are such a child! And ze reason you don't want to eat is because you have stuffed yourself wiz sweets. And don't play like you are innocent! You left ze wrappings all along ze counter! You were supposed to pack! Not make a mess!"

I couldn't help but smirk at her. I knew leaving a trail of wrappings would drive her mad. It wasn't a wise decision to smirk, however. She saw me. "You think zat zis is funny? Ugh! You are insufferable!" Then she was off her rocker, muttering to herself in rapid French, so fast that even I couldn't understand it. She threw herself down in a chair, exhausted from her battle with me. Daddy started laughing then. "Oh, come on now dearie. Don't drive your mother TOO crazy. I'm the one who has to deal with her while you're away at school now."

I rolled over and buried my face into the couch.

"Ughh. Don't remind me about that wretched place." Although, I'm sure it came out more like _Mphh. Mph mphp mmmm mphhh mpm mphhf_. Daddy walked over to the couch, and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Ahh, come on now my bonnie. Stop with all that muttering. I can't understand a word of it when you talk into cushions."

I turned my head to face his, there was a deep look of concern etched into it. More than just concern for me though; he was concerned about his mission, the order, and the war. I looked to mother, and even she, who was happy go lucky all the time- unless the house was out of order- looked uneasy and nervous and slightly put off. And after seeing all the worries marring their faces like that, I almost felt guilty. Guilty for being so selfish about this new school thing.

I wanted to tell him how I felt about moving, I really did. But I finally realized there are more important things at stake here. Daddy was just sitting next to me, waiting for my reply. I knew what it had to be. I had to take a chance, I had to be brave. Not for the Order, not for Harry, not for the Wizarding World, for my parents. So they wouldn't have to worry. I took a breath.

"I- I'm just nervous about starting school at an ACTUAL school finally. That's all."


End file.
